Chapter Thirteen

The block looked like something from a Bruce Willis movie. The entire area was sealed off, and cops were everywhere. There were ambulances and EMT workers, and a news van was giving live footage of the scene. Uniformed and undercover cops were marking shell cases from bullets that were fired. A body was put on a stretcher and rolled to an awaiting ambulance. Fingerprints were being taken off the Range Rover, as the dead man lay up against the steering wheel with the ice pick in his neck. The police asked the neighborhood residents if any one of them had seen or could identify any of the parties involved.

Porscha decided that she’d wait to speak to Share. It was obvious from the scene that whatever happened was the result of a little more than beef. Share had lied to her, but now was not the time to find out what had really occurred. Whatever went down, Porscha knew that things were about to get even uglier.

Ladelle made it home. He had been hit in the shoulder, and he was in so much pain he thought he would pass out. He hadn’t felt it before because his adrenaline was so high. He called his mother upstairs, waking her from a peaceful sleep, and ran up three flights. She was a nurse and would know what to do. She was surprised to see her son in this condition at four-thirty in the morning. She wanted to ask him what had happened, but instead she went to work on the wound. And since she didn’t ask any questions, Ladelle didn’t offer any information.

He felt bad about leaving Lou, but the last thing he needed was the police asking him questions while he stood over his man’s body. He prayed that Lou was all right, even though he doubted it.

Ladelle’s mind began to race. As his mother nurtured his shoulder, trying to find out exactly where the bullet was lodged, he was making plans. Time to call in the reinforcements, he thought.

Renee and Giselle got back to the house, and Renee explained to her Hispanic neighbor next door what had happened. She apologized for taking so long. Darnell and Dante had slept through everything, and Renee decided that it was best to wait until they woke up to let them know about their father. She wouldn’t send them to school today, but she would send them to their grandmother’s house.

Giselle called Ladelle and he filled her in on everything that happened and who he thought was the cause of it. Giselle was vexed after hearing that her wife’s friend had started all this bullshit. She was the reason her uncle was laid up in the critical care unit fighting for his life. Giselle would see that bitch Share and put the beats on her fa sho.

She called Porscha and blasted her for not telling her the truth. As far as Giselle was concerned, she knew something from the jump. She remembered when Porscha had made that phone call and said something about ‘beef.’ Porscha tried to explain to Giselle that she didn’t think it was that serious or she would have told her.

”Bitch, anything regarding my uncle is serious. And you laid up with me all fucken night and ain’t tell me shit. Now what the fuck am I supposed to think?”

”But Giselle—”

”Shut the fuck up...so now I’m supposed to believe you wasn’t protecting your bird friends?!” Giselle shrieked. If she was there with Porscha she would have taken her head off.

”All I’m saying is that—”

”Bitch, you ain’t saying shit!” Giselle said cutting her off again and then pressing the off key on her phone. She turned around and saw Renee standing there watching her. She wondered how much of the conversation she had heard. Oh, well. It really didn’t matter anyway. She had shit on the brain, and she didn’t care what Renee heard or didn’t hear.

Porscha was crying so hard that her head began to hurt. This could not be happening to her. Everything in her life was going right, and now this dumb shit. She couldn’t wait to talk to Share and Venus. Them bitches is the cause of all this anyway, she thought. If Giselle left her behind this bullshit, she would just die. She wouldn’t be able to go on without her.

Porscha went into the bathroom and washed her face. Her eyes were swollen and she had a nose full of boogies. She looked and felt a mess. She knew what she needed...she’d be all right.

She went to the store and bought a six-pack of beer. Thank God for twenty-four-hour stores. When she got back home she checked to see if Giselle had called—she hadn’t. It was daybreak and normally she would be getting ready for work, but not today. Today she was relapsing. She didn’t want to call her sponsor and she didn’t want to make a meeting. She just wanted to use.

Porscha called her job and said she wouldn’t be in today because of a family emergency. The counselor on duty assured her that she would let the morning shift know, and she told Porscha she hoped everything turned out all right.

Porscha never missed any days at work, so no one was likely to suspect anything. She opened one of the beers and took a swig.

Share had just arrived at her condo on Seventy-Fourth Street when the phone rang. It was Venus, making sure she got there safely. She and BJ were on their way home, trying to act like nothing had happened. Venus told her about how the fellas had gone out the back door of the brownstone, went through an opening and came out on 141^st Street. From there they caught cabs in different directions.

Share was concerned about all the drama that had been brought to her house. Why did those niggas have to do that shit at her crib? Now it was all going to come back to her. And she knew she’d have to call the police eventually because Ladelle wasn’t going to let it rest.

Share called the hospital to find out how serious Petie’s condition was. She was told that he was in the ICU and could only have visitors from immediate family. She decided to wait for Will so they could sort things out.

Kalif hollered at his brother to let him know that they had set it on the niggas in the white Hummer. Rasheed was not happy; he had already told Kalif to let him handle it, but Kalif hadn’t listened. And now there was no telling what would happen now.

Kalif turned on the news and was surprised to see a live broadcast from 142^nd Street. He called BJ and Will to tell them that they had made the news.

”Yeah, my niggas. Throw your guns up and hit the news. Channel 7 is uptown. They probably got that shit on 1010 Wins, too,” Kalif said, not realizing how serious the matter was. The neighbors would probably start talking and the police would be snatching up anybody moving.

”Fuck TV, dun. We don’t need that shit. Some old lady probably sayin’ she seen this and seen that. Niggas is still on paper. I ain’t trying to catch no new charges. We just gonna walk softly and see what them cats gon’ do,” Will told Kalif. Kalif was a loose cannon. He was already thinking about part two. He didn’t give a fuck about the nosy neighbors or what his brother had said. Fuck them, and fuck Will, too, if he wanted to bitch up. Anybody who wanted the business was gonna get it.